40 #OnANightLikeThis

 

Pierce?  Was Jon hallucinating or did this guy just introduce himself as Pierce?

 

It had to be a coincidence that his name was the same as Cookie’s “friend”.  The universe wasn’t jacked up enough to put him on the other side of a door that Jon happened to answer.  It just wasn’t possible.

 

Then again, the universe was pretty jacked up sometimes.  It wouldn’t hurt to do a little fishing, just to be sure.

 

“I’m Jon.”  He leaned in to firmly grip the offered hand, and then drew back with a casual, “Have any trouble finding the place?”

 

The corners of Pierce’s mouth were partially concealed by the beard, but Jon would swear they twitched.  There was definitely a sparkle of “I know something you don’t know” in the man’s dark eyes when he assured, “Not at all.  Teddi’s a friend, so I’ve been here many times.”

 

Son of a bitch.

 

Did it make it worse or better that her fuck friend now had a face?  A good-looking face, with glowing white teeth and eyes that brimmed with secrets.  Not to mention what seemed to be a fit body under his denim button-down and jeans.

 

No.  It definitely didn’t make it better, but Jon wasn’t willing to commit to it being worse, either.  That would mean he was experiencing something new and uncharted, like jealousy.  So, no.  It wasn’t worse.  It was simply weird.

 

“Nice,” was his neutral reply.  Just because jealousy wasn’t a problem didn’t mean he wanted to hang out and shoot the breeze with this guy.  “If you want to give me the contracts, I’ll be sure to tell her you said hello.”

 

“Thanks, but it was understood that you’re in a hurry to get the papers filed.  My instructions are to stay and make whatever changes are necessary so that the signed copies get back to the office tonight.” 

 

“I thought you were a courier?”

 

“I’m also the paralegal who drew up the contracts.”

 

A flash of pristine teeth had Jon squinting in self-defense.  It also forced him to contemplate whether people considered the brilliance of his own smile this damn annoying.  That was something he needed to find out, pronto.  It might require dialing back a couple shades on the whitening treatments.

 

In the meantime, he had to play nice with someone who had probably licked the scent of cookies from Teddi’s skin.  Multiple times, depending on the length of their friendship. 

 

Knowing she fucked the guy was one thing.  Knowing he was horning in on the cookie action hit a different nerve.

 

They’re my fucking cookies. 

 

Jon stifled the irrational urge to slam the door in the cookie poacher’s face and instead stepped aside to allow entry into the house.  He told himself it was nothing more than polite interest that prompted the question, “How long have you known Dr. Montgomery?”

 

A startled expression jolted away that secretive gleam, but Pierce still responded with a confident, “About five years, I guess.”

 

Five years between a woman’s legs, and hearing her referred to as “Dr. Montgomery” threw the guy off?  Add that into the weird column.  Teddi was going to have to give up some more info on this friendship. 

 

It’s none of your fucking business.

 

Technically, no.  It wasn’t his business, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious.  Nobody even had to know he was curious.  When Pierce walked through that door, Teddi’s face might tell the whole story.      

 

That made him a little more congenial when saying, “Everybody’s in the kitchen.”

 

With a slow nod, Pierce looked hesitantly down the entry hall toward the living room on the left.  After studying that doorway, his scrutiny shifted to the dining room on the right.  Then left again.  Then right.      

 

The indecisive back-and-forth went on until Jon felt obligated to gesture at the nearest doorway – right behind Pierce.  “Through here.”

 

“Of course.” 

 

The uber-white smile didn’t annoy Jon this time. He was too busy trying to puzzle out why – after being here “many times” – Pierce didn’t know his way to Teddi’s kitchen.   She’d never cooked dinner for him?  In five fucking years?

 

Yeah.  The weird column was filling up fast.

 

Tucking both hands in his pockets, he trailed behind the paralegal paramour, more eager than ever to see Teddi’s reaction.  His eyes stayed glued on her when approaching the group. 

 

“Looks like we’ll have one more at the table for our discussion,” he announced to the group who was cheerfully enjoying happy hour.  “Everybody, this is Pierce.”

 

Teddi’s smile fell, and her glass damn-near followed suit. 

 

He had no idea how she managed to keep from wearing what was left of her Muff Dive, but she juggled the drink without spilling a drop.  As soon as it was again secure in her grip, she inhaled it like a recovering alcoholic on a distillery tour.

 

Okay, so maybe she politely tipped the glass to her lips, but the booze still disappeared in a hurry – and the eyes peeking at Jon over the rim were spooked.  She was visibly trying to determine whether he understood the significance of the latest guest, and he decided to help her along. 

 

“Pierce is a friend of Teddi’s.  He’s gonna supervise the contract signing.”

 

Teddi’s stomach took another nosedive, turning the alcohol that she’d just dumped there into a raging waterfall.

 

Damnation. He knows.

 

Which wasn’t tragic in and of itself.  She wasn’t clandestinely juggling men, after all.  Jon knew about Pierce and what he was to her.   Mostly.  It was just horribly awkward seeing her fantasy celebrity lover come face to face with her… gigolo. 

 

Worse than that was Pierce’s presence in the same room with her family.  If they figured out who/what he was, this business meeting would become a free-for-all on Teddi’s private life.   

 

What in the hell was Pierce doing here, anyway?  How was he qualified to handle contracts?

 

With Jon watching Teddi while she frantically sought to maintain a façade of composure, it left a deafening lull in conversation. How that was possible with a group that had been hyper-chatty only thirty seconds ago, she didn’t know, but someone had to fill it.

 

That someone ended up being David Bryan, who scooted back his chair and reached across the table for Pierce’s hand. 

 

“Pierce.  Welcome to the party, man.  I’m Dave, the uninvited guest.  Everybody else is Teddi’s cousin – Mags, Cat, Stef, Tori, Craig.”

 

He may have been uninvited, but she greatly appreciated his presence in that moment.

 

“Yes.  Thank you for the introductions.”  Teddi awkwardly pushed back her own chair.  “Pierce, what a surprise.  Would you care for a drink?  We’re having vodka cocktails.”

 

“Hello, Teddi.  Guess you didn’t get the text I sent when I realized where I was headed tonight.”

 

“No, I didn’t.”  If she had, she would’ve locked the gate behind Jon and hidden away with him in the boudoir.  She would be having sex now instead enduring a bizarre psychological torture.  “Do you drink vodka?”

 

His smile was gentle.  “If you don’t have sangria, then yes.  Vodka’s fine.” 

 

That familiarity earned Teddi some sharp glances – from Tori, Maggie, Jon…..  Everyone except Craig and David, really. 

 

“Vodka it is,” she affirmed with a slight nod and knocking knees.  Was it too much to ask that her cousins keep their questions to themselves until this was over?  She prayed it wasn’t.  “Let me just get you a glass and the cookies I’ve neglected to serve as of yet.  Please excuse me.”

 

“I’ll help.”

 

The Muff Dive waterfall in her stomach shape-shifted into a pounding surf at high tide, but she forced a smile at Jon’s offer.  “That would be lovely, thank you.  There’s an extra chair in the corner, Pierce.  Magdalene, could you and Catarina scoot over to make room?”

 

Feverishly thumbing her pendant, Teddi concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other to navigate the twenty-five-foot expanse of kitchen.  The last thing she needed was to stumble and invite more unwanted attention.   As it was, Tori and Maggie were already plotting to conduct an inquisition.

 

By the grace of God, she reached the far counter without incident.  Clutching the marble top where the cocktail ingredients still stood, she accepted their presence as a sign that another batch of drinks was in order. 

 

That sign was joined by another in the form of Jon’s quietly murmured, “Why didn’t he know where the kitchen was?” 

 

She lifted an unsteady hand to the nearest cabinet and retrieved another pitcher and glass.  “Could you get some ice, please?  And the cookie platter that’s on top of the refrigerator?”

 

“As soon as you answer me.”  

 

Eyes darting over her shoulder to where conversation had picked up again – likely about her – she said in a low voice, “He’s never been in my kitchen.”

 

“Only your bedroom?”

 

“Boudoir,” was her clarifying whisper.  “Boudoir, living room and, last time, the media room.”

 

“You fucked him in the media room?”

 

“No!” she hissed with a painfully pounding heart.  There was no way anyone could hear their soft exchange, but it felt like it was being broadcast on a loudspeaker. “We watched a movie.”

 

“I don’t get how you bang a guy for five years, without him being able to find the kitchen.”

 

Spinning the top from the vodka bottle, Teddi liberally splashed it into the pitcher.  For God’s sake, how much information could he and Pierce possibly exchange in the time it took to answer the door?  Because she’d certainly never mentioned the length of that relationship. 

 

Unfortunately, with an audience poised to eavesdrop, she dared not ask.

 

“I’ve told you that’s no longer the situation, and you were kind enough to show him to the kitchen.  Problems solved.”

 

She traded the vodka for the schnapps as he evenly returned, “It’s not like I care about the sex.  I’m interested in the rest of the story.”

 

Fortunately, a burst of lively laughter masked the liqueur bottle thunking to the countertop, louder than their entire conversation thus far.

 

She logically understood what Jon was saying.  She even appreciated it on some level, but his cavalier “It’s not like I care” still stung her pride.  He’d certainly given the impression of caring about the sex yesterday, when he irritably demanded to know Pierce’s name.  It made his current flippancy both hurtful and insulting.

 

“Bully for you and your open-mindedness, but there is no ‘rest of the story’.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a moment alone and another dose of medication.”

 

“Hey.”  A heavy hand covered Teddi’s forearm before she could make her exit.  “Why are you so stressed?  I didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

The patch of flesh under his palm was the only part of Teddi that didn’t tremble.  Two Xanax and a very strong cocktail should be doing a better job of managing her symptoms, but this was an unprecedented time.  She’d have to be comatose to be unaffected. 

 

Clenching her jaw to prevent teeth from chattering, she gritted out, “I am stressed because every single person in this house is either talking or wondering about me.  And judging.”   

 

Jon dropped her arm like a hot potato, leaving it to quiver along with the rest of her and insisting, “I’m not judging.”

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

“No.”  Solemn blue irises were flecked with steel.  “I’m trying to understand what you’re hiding.”

 

He already knew what she was hiding – a Gypsy soul riddled with passion.  He just didn’t know the details of how that related to Pierce. 

 

“Teddi?” She snapped her head around to find Pierce peering at them from the other side of the island.  “Everything okay?”

 

No.  Everything was not okay.  She was not equipped to handle this.  The very separate, private pieces of her life were not meant to intersect.  Bluebloods, Gypsies, celebrities, lovers, obligations, fantasies...  It was all too much. 

 

The Muff Dives rolled to high tide again, and this time they weren’t stopping at the edges of her stomach.  Acid, bile, vodka and cranberries seared her esophagus.  She couldn’t even mutter an apology to the two men watching her. 

 

All Teddi could do was press a hand to her mouth and shoulder past Jon in a race for the half-bath – while praying that she’d make it.